


I've Been Dying to Tell You Anything

by orphan_account



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Notes, Warped Tour 2005
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-19
Updated: 2015-08-19
Packaged: 2018-04-15 12:02:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4605990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frank hadn't meant to snoop, he'd just wanted his t-shirt back; he didn't mean to find Gerard's letters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I've Been Dying to Tell You Anything

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by [this](http://valiumblue.tumblr.com/post/22652287777/i-like-how-this-is-all-the-same-gig-i-mean-like) post because I got thinking about what happened before the show.

Frank hadn't meant to be looking through Gerard's stuff, it's just that he has a habit of stealing any of Frank's clothes that vaguely fit him - which isn't much - or even clothes that don't, and Frank really had _no_ clothes left to wear at this point, and he needed to find something before their set later so he wouldn't end up onstage in the gross, visibly-dirty, white t-shirt, covered in dry sweat, he had on at the moment.

Frank can't stand how messy Gerard keeps his stuff; compared to his own, it's like it's been hit by a fucking tornado. Frank's drawer is split in two - one half for clothes, _folded neatly_ , and the other half for his other junk, his camera and books and any odd bits. Gerard, on the other hand, just has a huge mess, Frank doesn't know how he actually _finds_ anything, which is probably why he steals all of Frank's clothes, because they're actually easily accessible and normally vaguely clean, at least, compared to Gerard I-don't-know-how-to-do-laundry Way's clothes.

Frank's turfing through Gerard's drawer right now, and he would be worried that he's making a mess, but he doubts Gerard would even notice, and if he did, he'd know why Frank was going through his stuff, because he's had his 'I am a monster' t-shirt for _weeks_ , and he's pretty sure he even let Pete Wentz borrow it, so he can only hope that it isn't lost somewhere on the Fall Out Boy bus instead, because he doesn't want to have to deal with searching through their bus too; he's already had to send Mikey over for a few things, mainly because Mikey's the only one that knows where to find anything on their bus, because he's in there often enough.

He wasn't trying not to snoop, honestly, because even though Gerard's really not a private person, there's hardly any privacy on tour as it is, so the guy at least deserves something, but he can't help but get curious when he finds an envelope, because, seriously, who writes _letters_ anymore?

He turns the letter over in his hands to see if it's addressed to anyone, expecting to see his parent's address or something, even though he could just use the phone to catch them up on the joys of warped tour. Instead, he sees his own name, not an address or anything, or even his full name, just 'Frank' written in Gerard's messy scrawl, and Frank freezes. Why the fuck was Gerard writing him letters?

Frank looks back into the drawer, and finds three more letters, one addressed to Mikey, one addressed to Ray, and one to Brian. Something doesn't feel right, and Frank feels a sense of dread fill his stomach.

He doesn't know if he should read the letter, the one addressed to him, at least, because that's probably a huge fucking invasion of privacy, even if Frank's name is written across the front, because Gerard hasn't actually _given_ it to him yet, if he ever actually will. Gerard isn't even on the bus right now, Frank doesn't know if anyone else is, either, so it's not like he's gonna get caught, but for whatever reason not knowing where Gerard is just makes him feel even worse.

_Fuck it_ , Frank thinks, curiosity getting the better of him, dropping the other three letters back down into Gerard's drawer, and opening the envelope with his name on, it wasn't even properly sealed yet, so Gerard won't know that he's seen this.

He takes the paper out with shaking hands, and honestly, he doesn't know why he's so worried, maybe these are sketches, and this is just Gerard's way of organising who he draws? Frank doubts it though, because Gerard draws anyone he sees, even if it's just a ten second sketch of someone passing on the street, so he finds it hard to believe that he's only got drawings of the four people he's closest with on this tour.

Frank unfolds the paper and, yeah, his drawing idea was a bunch of bullshit, because it's just covered in words, like an actual, proper fucking letter. Frank closes the drawer, sitting up on the sofa above it, spreading the paper out flat on his knees.

He knows he shouldn't be doing this, Gerard would probably hate him if he knew he'd gone through his stuff and was reading things he'd written, he doesn't normally let him read anything unless it's song lyrics he wants opinions on.

Maybe these _are_ songs lyrics, Frank thinks hopefully, maybe he's dedicating a song to each of us, but Frank knows it isn't true already as he comes up with the idea.

_Frank_ , it starts, and Frank's heart lurches, and jesus, it's just his fucking name, he needs to relax.

_I'm so sorry, you're gonna hate me, I know you are, but it couldn't do this anymore._

And suddenly Frank knows what this is, he fucking knows, he knows how hard it's been for Gerard lately, and he's always telling him to come to him if anything happens, begging him not to do anything stupid, and he's been dreading for something like this to happen, and for Gerard not to say anything.

_I know you said don't do anything stupid, I know you said I can talk to you, but I can't, I don't want you looking at me like everyone else does, like I'm some fuck-up that can't even get through a day without several dozen units of alcohol. And yeah, I am and I can barely make a day anymore even with all the alcohol and drugs, but you're the only person that doesn't look at me like that. You're the only person that still thinks I can get better, who can still see me behind the booze._

_I wanted to get better for you, Frankie, and I know I promised you, I said I'd get better. I tried so hard, I swear, but I can't do this anymore. I wish I could still get better, for you, but I just can't stand this anymore, I'm sorry. This isn't your fault, please remember that Frank. Don't blame yourself for this, and don't let Mikey blame himself either, and make sure Ray is okay, please, he'll try to be strong for everyone else but he needs someone to talk to, too._

_Please know that I love you, Frank, I love you so much, more than you realise. You mean the world to me and I wish I could give you the fucking world, but I can barely even keep myself alive. I guess I'm not anymore, though. I hope you can forgive me for this, and that you'll be okay even if the band is done after this. I guess it will be. You guys wouldn't let yourself continue even if I told you it's what I wanted._

_I can't say sorry enough times, and I wish I could say this to your face, I wish I could hug you goodbye. Fuck, I wish I could kiss you, but you wouldn't want that. You would try to convince me out of this, and it would work, I would want to stay because of you, but it would get just as bad in another week, and what if you're not there to help me? I could keep putting this off but it's going to happen, eventually, I don't have the strength to avoid it. I'm getting this over with while I can, before you guys know, before you guys want to stop me. I'm sorry, Frank, I love you._

_Gerard_

Frank feels like he's going to throw up, he reads the letter through again, three times, four times. He can't believe the words on the page, what Gerard's telling him, what he's planning on doing, what he could have _already done_. He needs to know where Gerard is, he needs to find him, alive, not dead in a pool of blood in one of the venue bathrooms.

Suddenly, he hears the crashing of the too-loud bus door, and voices. Ray and Mikey. He doesn't feel like he can face them right now, he doesn't know what to say. Does he show them the letters? Does he pretend that nothing's wrong, and just wait for them to find Gerard's dead body?

He hears the door to the lounge area opening, and he considers trying to hide the letter, but honestly, he feels too numb to even move.

"Frank...?" he hears someone asking, and he doesn't want to even look up because of these fucking tears in his eyes.

"What are you..." the voice says again, and he can hear them coming closer. He knows that voice, it's not Ray, or even Mikey. Gerard.

"You're-" Frank says, unable to continue with anything that would even make sense, because he looks up and Gerard is there, frowning at Frank in confusion, but _alive_ , wearing Frank's fucking 'I am a monster' t-shirt.

"You're _alive_ ," Frank says, wanting to cry all over again because Gerard's here and he _hasn't_ killed himself and _fuck_ , Frank could kiss him, but also punch him in the face.

"Why would-" Gerard starts, then cuts himself off when he looks down, seeing the letter in Frank's hands, "oh."

"You...you..." Frank says, at a complete and utter loss for words, trying to stop his damn hands from shaking so much.

"I'm sorry, I didn't- I wasn't-"

"You were going to fucking _kill yourself_?" Frank says, putting the letter aside and standing up, feeling like his brain _wanted_ to be angry, but couldn't actually feel anything other than relief over the fact that Gerard's here, in front of him, and he's all but crying from the overload of emotions.

"I'm not- I- I talked to Brian, he-"

"You fucker," Frank says, taking a step to close the distance between them and wrapping his arms round Gerard's neck, hugging him as close as he can, " _never_ do that again, I swear to fucking god."

"I'm sorry, Frankie," Gerard says, hugging Frank back, resting his cheek on the top of Frank's head where he'd pressed his face into Gerard's neck.

"You don't need to say sorry," Frank says, "this isn't your fault. But please, talk to me, next time," he says, looking up at Gerard.

"I will, I promise," Gerard says.

"Seriously, Gee, you can't...you can't do that. I was so scared," Frank mumbles, pressing his face back into Gerard's neck and squeezing that much tighter. "Don't ever die."

"I won't," Gerard says, rubbing slow circles into Frank's back.

"Seriously," Frank says again, pulling back again slightly to look up at Gerard, "you're not...allowed to, it would fucking destroy me, Gerard, you can't do that to me. To the band. To _Mikey_."

"I promise I won't," Gerard says, and he sounds sincere this time, sober, unlike the drunken, slurred promise he'd made to Frank last time when he'd tried to talk to him about it.

"I love you," Frank says, his heart aching with it because _fuck_ he does.

"I love you too," Gerard says, bringing one hand up to the back of Frank's head, running his fingers through the short hair there.

"No, really," Frank says, "you're my best friend, you're one of the most important people in my life, I can't- I love you."

Gerard just nods, watching Frank still, and he just thinks fuck it, because if he's gonna do this he might as well get it over with, and he opens his mouth to say something more, but then he got a much better idea and, remembering what Gerard said in his letter, gets up on his tiptoes and pulls Gerard even closer, impossibly close, then presses their lips together, softly, unable to stop his smile when he feels Gerard kissing him back gently.

It's not the best kiss in the world, by far, and on a normal day with any other person Frank wouldn't really consider this that good of a kiss at all; there are tears streaming down his face by now, getting on both of their lips, and Gerard is sweaty and smells more than a bit after being outside all morning, and they can hardly kiss properly because Frank's still breathing heavily from the sudden assault of emotions, and Gerard's just too taken aback to be able to kiss properly.

But this is _Gerard_ , and that makes it the best kiss Frank's had to this day, and he wouldn't have normally done this, not until he spent at least a decade working up the courage to put himself out there and kiss Gerard, but now that he's been faced with the prospect of losing him, thinking that Gerard was dead - albeit only for a couple of minutes before he came in the room - gives him the courage, which is more of a kind of desperation, to finally do this after so many years, and just cling onto Gerard while he's still alive.

"You-" Gerard says when Frank pulls away, looking completely bewildered.

"God, I've been wanting to do that since we first met in the studio," Frank says, smiling breathlessly up at Gerard, "it got even worse when I joined the band."

A slow smile creeps across Gerard's face, and it's the best feeling in the world, seeing Gerard smile, _making_ him smile, after so many months of sadness.

Frank knows this isn't the end, he knows Gerard's still struggling, and it could take months, years, for him to recover fully, for him to get clean, and it's gonna be hard, he knows that, but, god, if it means he'll be smiling like that every day by the time it's done, it's definitely worth the fight.

"I love you," Gerard says, half mumbling it because he can hardly wait until he finishes talking before he's kissing Frank again, deep and slow, and this kiss is even better, still tinged with the saltiness of their tears.

 

Frank couldn't stay away from Gerard that afternoon on stage.


End file.
